


Historical Reenactment for Beginners

by radialarch



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Future Fic, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, mentions of pegging, oh god it's so domestic, some discussion of Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:53:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7306234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/radialarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is probably not what Steve had meant by "shared life experience."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Historical Reenactment for Beginners

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kirkspocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirkspocks/gifts), [circulation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/circulation/gifts).



> Set at some point vaguely post-CACW, where everything is resolved and nothing hurts. Some historicity has been sacrificed for the sake of porn.

The first time they fuck is in a small house in a forgotten corner of Wakanda and Steve has wanted this for what feels like a century. Bucky works him open and slides into him, slow, and Steve curls his hands into fists to stop them shaking; Bucky coaxes an orgasm out of him without a hand on his dick, and a second one before they’re done, and by the time he pulls out Steve feels about a second from floating away.

“Christ, Steve,” Bucky says, still sprawled across his back, “that your first time getting fucked?” and Steve’s giddy enough to mumble “Almost” into the ruined sheets.

So: that’s how it starts.

———

In the morning Bucky makes pancakes, and waits until Steve’s halfway through his third for the ambush.

“Wilson,” he says, around a forkful of egg.

“What?”

Bucky gives a one-shouldered shrug, and he’s not quite looking at Steve when he says, “The guy who fucked you first.”

Steve chokes. Bucky comes around to thump him on the back.

“Have you been thinking about that all night?” Steve demands when he gets his breath back, not sure whether to be amused or appalled. “Is this a jealousy thing?”

“No!” Bucky says. “No, I don’t think.” He pauses a minute, mulls it over, while Steve finishes off the pancakes and the rest of his coffee.

“I couldn’t remember anything for a long time,” Bucky says at last, absently pushing his own mug into Steve’s hands. “Steve, I — I want to know everything about you.”

“Buck,” Steve says, helpless. “You already know everything that matters.” Steve’s face has always been an open book, and he can feel his expression twisting into something dangerous now; he looks down, takes a hasty gulp of coffee.

He makes a face. Turns out, Bucky takes his coffee a lot stronger than he used to.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, “I keep forgetting —”

“Yeah, I bet,” Steve says with half a grin, and hands the mug back. “Gonna clean up.”

He’s halfway to the kitchen before he says, without looking over his shoulder, “And Buck? It wasn’t Sam.”

“What, I gotta cross off every name on the list?”

“Cheer up,” Steve says, “it shouldn’t take _that_ long,” and lets the faucet drown out the rest of Bucky’s protest.

———

The next time Bucky brings it up, it’s been two days. Steve’s just coming in from his run. He hasn’t even had time to take off his shoes.

“Stark,” Bucky says, handing him a towel; and as an afterthought, “junior.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, scandalized. “I knew his _father_.”

“Senior?” he tries. “Always thought he looked at you kind of funny. Can’t be, though, you were all starry-eyed for Carter—”

Bucky pauses. Steve hastily buries his face in the towel.

“It’s Carter, isn’t it,” Bucky says. “You let Carter fuck you up—”

“I,” Steve says, much too loudly, “need a shower.”

He takes the towel and retreats, tactically. From behind him, Bucky shouts, “This ain’t over yet, Rogers!”

———

Bucky’s never been one for grudges, not like Steve — but there are some things he’ll hold onto like a dog with a bone, and Steve suspects this might be one of them.

Still, he hadn’t expected Bucky to stop undressing halfway and say thoughtfully, “I looked it up.”

Steve looks suspiciously at the curve of Bucky’s back. “Buck, I swear to God—”

Bucky pulls his head out of his shirt and says, “You know they call it pegging?”

“I am on your bed,” Steve says, snappish, “with no clothes on, and if you wanna just stand there and embarrass me, or — I could leave, I’m not—”

“What? Hey,” Bucky says, and slides onto the bed. “I’m not making fun. Look at me and tell me I’m making fun.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide and serious. Steve relents a little, and lets Bucky kiss him when he leans in.

Bucky is also—

“Oh my God,” Steve says, “are you — is this getting you hot?”

“Pal, I go weak at the sight of your hands,” Bucky says. “Look at this. Look at you.” He’s mouthing his way along Steve’s jaw now, and Christ, Steve’s traitorous dick is stirring.

“I can almost see it,” he continues. “You, spread out underneath Carter. She’s got a great view. Maybe she’s wearing red. Match that killer number. Her lipstick.”

“You—” Steve laughs, breathless. “You are so full of shit.”

“Yeah?” Bucky says, and grins. “Listen, I’m willing to be corrected.”

Bucky’s been leading up to this all along, Steve thinks; Bucky’s looking at him with dark eyes and a bruised, wet mouth, and Steve’s hard now, aching for Bucky to touch him —

“Yeah, I could fill you in,” Steve says, raspy, “maybe, if someone’d get it together long enough to fuck me.”

Bucky presses him down to the bed, and Steve goes. He hears Bucky fumbling, the click of a cap, then a finger, slick with lube, slides into him.

“You can fill me in,” Bucky says, straight-faced, “and I’ll fill you—”

“ _Buck_ ,” Steve chokes, but he’s laughing; and Bucky takes the opportunity to add another finger.

“C’mon, I’m not gonna break,” Steve says, arching up. “Get on with it —”

“Gotta tell me first,” Bucky says, and withdraws completely. For a moment there’s nothing touching Steve, while Bucky slicks himself; then both his hands are back on Steve’s thighs, one metal and one flesh. “How’d she do it,” he asks, “on your back, or bent over her desk —”

“All four,” Steve says, “on my knees, Christ, Buck, don’t be a tease —”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” says Bucky, like the goddamn liar he is, and tugs at Steve’s knees. Steve lets Bucky arrange him the way he wants, and a soft sound punches itself out of him when he realizes what Bucky’s up to.

“So she had you like this,” Bucky says, smoothing a hand down Steve’s flank, before he lines himself up and slides into him. “I’m thinking — she went slow at first, let you adjust. Maybe she knew it was your first time. Didn’t want to rush it.”

“She definitely didn’t _stop moving_ ,” Steve says in a near-whine, “you got plans back there I don’t know about?” and presses himself back impatiently against Bucky’s cock.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Bucky says, and stills Steve’s hips between his hands. “Gotta do this right, else it’s not worth doing at all.”

“Could be worth a couple orgasms,” Steve points out.

Bucky snorts, his thumb circling the jut of Steve’s hipbone. “Keep talking, pal, and maybe you won’t get any.”

A slow wave of pleasure shivers down Steve’s spine, and he drops his head onto his forearm. “Yeah,” he says, hoarse, “It was — slow. But she figured out she didn’t need to be so careful pretty quick.”

“Smart gal, that Carter,” Bucky says, and finally starts to move. “C’mon, then. Tell me how Peggy peg—”

“Your dick is in my ass,” Steve says dangerously, “don’t you dare finish that sentence —”

“I can’t help it,” Bucky says, “they just come out of me —”

“I’ll show you something that comes out —” Steve starts. Bucky retaliates by picking up the pace; Steve’s breath stutters as Bucky’s cock drags over his prostate. His own dick is hot and leaking against his stomach.

“So did she touch you,” Bucky asks, catching hold of Steve’s wrist before he can stroke himself. “Or maybe she let you do it. Told you exactly how to do it.”

“She didn’t,” Steve mumbles; the rest get lost in the crook of his elbow. He can _feel_ himself going hot: the back of his neck, across his shoulders. God, Bucky can probably see it.

“C’mon,” Bucky says, and there’s a hand in Steve’s hair, he’s pulling his head up — “it’s all right, you can tell me —”

Steve closes his eyes, and his voice is shaky when he says, “She said — I could come on her cock or, or not at all.”

“Fucking _Christ_ ,” Bucky says, faltering for a second, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You do that,” Steve says, “just let me come first, you absolute—”

The hand around Steve’s wrist tightens. “Nobody’s stopping you,” Bucky says, “any time you want,” and it’s a small mercy that he’s too breathless to sound smug. Much.

“I am never telling you anything again,” Steve gasps, but he rocks back, meeting Bucky thrust for thrust, and the heat in his belly’s been gathering a long time. He comes before Bucky does, all his arousal set alight; and Bucky drops his head onto Steve’s back, steady against the trembling in Steve’s limbs, and spills inside him.

It takes a while for Steve to gather himself together, but eventually he musters up the energy to mutter, “I ought to gag you, see if your dick still works when your mouth’s not running.”

“I’ll have you know, this mouth’s got lots of uses,” Bucky stirs himself up to say. “Might not wanna give up on the whole thing yet.”

Bucky’s grinning at him unrepentantly, and Steve thinks, fleeting: _We could. We've got all the time in the world to figure it out._

“Yeah, Buck,” he says, and laughs, loud and clear. “Next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay listen, this entire thing sprang from a "Peggy pegging" pun. Rest assured I have many regrets.


End file.
